Speechless
by xShed Your Yellowx
Summary: The words remained untouched, and she was powerless, as she had been her entire life. JesseOC JesseXOC
1. Prologue

**A/N: Here we are. Jesse's my favorite, even though I don't think he should've been so mean to Rachel. Enjoy the prologue, dears.  
*Glee is not mine, despite my wildest dreams.**

* * *

Being cursed from birth is a burden that none should have to bear. To be silent is to be invisible, and to be invisible is to be forever forgotten. All the same, to be such a thing is better than to be always ridiculed. By blending in, a person can get by; by getting by, a person can escape the brutality of others easily. Theatricality can kill people, if those people are not prepared to face the consequences of being so ridiculously outspoken.

However, when a person does not have such a choice, the pain of being unable to speak out and up for themselves is excruciating. Without a voice, the human body is little more than a soulless corpse, incapable of naught but dependence on their fellows. To fade into obscurity is preferable to being such a leeching life form, a needy dependent on society.

_I'm the greatest leech of all._ To be sheltered in the same way I am is to be a parasite on those near one; reliance on others is the only way to get by.

My parents home-school me. I'm the most spoiled child in the entire Midwest, or, at the very least, in the top five percent. I adore my family, and they are my saving grace. They go out of their way to do everything that can be done to make my life easier, and I think they've wasted a lot of their lives for it.

As you, dear reader, may or may not have pieced together, my body doesn't work quite the way that I want it to. Rather, one specific region of my body doesn't, or at least not when I want it to. You see, I'm a selective mute.

As a small child, I was bullied by a teacher; I was hardly six years old, and I had said something out of line in class. She proceeded to say some less than nice things to me (it wasn't the first time I had spoke when not spoken to), and I haven't been quite the same since. My parents pulled me from school, and I haven't gone back there from that day.

I don't live up to my name anymore, although as a child I was the greatest chatterbox of all time. My name, Kalliope, means beautiful voice, and I suppose I used to have such a thing – my parents and teachers could never get me to shut up back then. Nowadays, though, I'm as quiet as they come… and it isn't a choice, either. My family are the only ones who have heard me talk for ten years, though many a therapist has tried to work me out of my "funk."

I'm fairly certain that my disability is why they never had any more kids. I'm such a mess – why would they ever want another screw-up like me? To be honest, I can't say that I am blame them. I wouldn't want a child like me either.

* * *

There's a lot of irony in the fact that my favorite subject at home is Modern Greek (as Ancient Greek is a dead language), and even more in that I love to speak it. My mother was born in Greece, and immigrated to the States when she was eleven (God knows why she moved to Ohio). She and my dad were a fairytale unto themselves; he was the first friend she made at school, and he was the one who taught her most of her English. He is Hispanic, and Mom is Greek; at that small-town, predominantly Caucasian school, they were the oddest pair that could be seen walking down the hallway.

I've always liked the fluidity of the human voice; excuse me while I'm vain for a moment, but I really do like to hear myself talk. It doesn't happen often, and when it does, the value of the words is impeded by the pathological shyness that is forever affecting my life. As stated before, I haven't spoken to anyone that's related to me in over ten years; it gets to a person after awhile, especially a teenager, not having any friends.

At the very least, though, I do have my parents, and I adore them to the point of no return. I mean, sweet baby James, I can't imagine how much patience it took on their part to learn to deal with my "little quirk" as they call it. And I'm a real brat sometimes, too; I don't know how they've managed to put up with me all these years.

Really, to be honest, the only thing I'm good for is going out to get groceries, and to pick up pizza occasionally, and one time, I even messed _that_ up. Mom and Dad thought it was funny, but I really did feel bad about it.

Oh well. I don't mean to whine so much, or be so ungrateful. Given how bad some people have life, things are going pretty well for Kalliope Vitar. A person just gets a little tired of having to depend on others to communicate after awhile…

* * *

I think glee clubs put on the most stunning performances I've ever seen. Mom was in glee club when she was in high school, and that's why she named me Kalliope; her voice, Dad says, is what made him fall in love with her. She smiles and shakes her head every time, and then tells me, after Dad's left the room, that she got to give me that name because Vitar needed balanced out with a little Mediterranean spice… but I digress.

Since I was little, even before I lost my voice, Mom would take me to show choir invitationals, dragging dad along whenever she could. The glitz and the glam and the lights that glanced off the stage make-up; it was the most beautiful sight to me then, and it still is now. Secretly, I've always kind of dreamed of getting up in that auditorium and belting my heart out; I'm not naïve enough to think that would ever be possible with this social disorder that's taken over my life. Besides, my voice doesn't live up to my name anymore. It's raspy from lack of use, and it cracks when I get to an odd point in my vocal register…

I've learned to settle for less, though. There's beauty in simply hearing and seeing a performance, although I know I can never join in. In fact, I think I almost appreciate it more than most, due to my disability.

Sometimes, it's just necessary to appreciate the little things… because the little things bring big ones along with them.

* * *

_"If the bombs go off  
the sun will still be shining  
because I've heard it said  
that every mushroom cloud  
has a silver lining..._

"Cave In" by Owl City


	2. Oh, Seriously

***Chapter two. Thanks for all the alerts and favorites, but Kalliope and I would love some reviews. *wink wink* Jesse's coming up here soon, loves.**

****Glee isn't mine, so don't sue me.**

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Light lips feathered across my forehead, and a gentle croon told me it was time to wake up. I knew that, were I not to simply leap from bed, my mother would grow upset… but I just couldn't make myself do it. As such I rolled over, and with a mighty groan, went back to sleep. I heard the soft voice again, but this time with a hint of danger; "Kalliope… if you don't wake up, we aren't going to sectionals tonight."

I sat up mechanically. That was a low blow, even for her, and she knew it; I could tell by the wicked grin on her face. Shaking my head sleepily, I said in an extra raspy voice, for I had just woken up, "Sectionals aren't even until five…"

"I was gone all morning, and your father didn't wake you up like I told him to. You slept until two." Eyes flashing frantically towards the clock, I saw her words were true. My eyes widened, and I leapt out of bed, exactly the way she wanted me to, for the numbers read 2:04. "We have to go and run a few errands in town, too. I want to be able to leave by three, so we can be at the auditorium at 4:30.

The quickest shower I'd ever taken bought me a little time to do my hair, and I didn't look terribly awful by the time I was done. Much to the dismay of my mother, we left the house at 3:15, putting her fifteen minutes behind schedule, and she called the car ahead of us a few names in Greek that I can't really mention here.

"Where do we have to go anyway, Mom?' She was acting odd; it wasn't often that I saw my mother in such a rush.

"Just out to eat."

Well. I wasn't one to argue with that. The car grew silent again, until I said, "I think William McKinley has sectionals sewn up, Mom."

"Well, technically speaking, I would agree with you. But that School for the Deaf is going to garner a lot of sympathy, and while it's a terrible thing to say, I'm almost certain they're going to use that to their advantage." She flashed an agitated glare at the clock, as if she could freeze it with a laser stare. We had plenty of time – it was only 3:30 – she was just overreacting. It wouldn't kill us if we were five minutes late, but apparently her life depended on being at the auditorium at 4:30.

She and I ate the quickest meal ever, with Mom ordering for me as always because I was petrified of having to speak to the waiter. The minute we were done, my mother whisked us back to the car, and we were off again; she and I rolled into the school's parking lot at 4:15. I was excited, yes, but I hadn't ever seen my mother like this… it was almost like Mom had some "special reason" for coming here.

I knew this for a fact when she grabbed me by the hand and pulled me away the second that my door was shut. The people around made it impossible for me to squeak out a single word, but as if Mom could read my mind, she said, "We have to go see an old friend of mine." The building was already crowded with people, and with my mother's erratic movements, I found myself bumping into a boy who looked my age, if not a little older. He gave me a look; not really a _mean_ one, per se, just a _hey, watch where you're going_ look. I, however, didn't have any way to apologize to him, which was sad, because he was adorable.

That was the least of my concerns though, as Mom was moving through the room at a breakneck pace. She stopped for a moment, looking right and left, eyes flashing with success. "Emma!" Mom let go of my hand, waving at a redhead a ways over, before saying, "Come on, Kalliope. You'll like Emma."

I had little choice but to follow, so I did so. Mom stayed a fair distance from the woman, which I thought was odd, as my mother is normally a very "huggy" person. I gave a shy wave to Emma, and Mom introduced me to her friend. "Oh, yes, this is Kalliope. Kalliope, Emma, Emma, Kalliope."

"Oh, lovely to meet you, dear." The slightly bug-eyed woman extended a hand tentatively, obviously very much struggling with shaking my hand. I nodded politely, and took her hand, shaking it briefly before letting it go. Immediately after doing so, the redhead whipped out a container of hand sanitizer, dousing said appendages in it.

"I'm Emma Pillsbury. I'm filling in for the New Directions coach; due to extenuating circumstances, he couldn't come today. Will regrets it tremendously…" Emma's voice trailed off, and she got an oddly dreamy look in her eye. Between all the meaningless chit-chat, Mom and I sat down with the cute (if germaphobic) redhead, and at five-til –five, the lights went down.

Soon after, a horribly visual rendition of "Proud Mary" knocked me speechless, and I don't mean that in a good way. The all-female choir was not vocally gifted at all, and the flashy use of their hair was, to be frank, giving me a serious case of whiplash. Emma tensed up, and stormed out of the auditorium; Mom and I looked to each other, but there was little we could do except continue to watch the competition.

And oh, dear lord, Haverbrook School for the Deaf… I wanted to cry for two reasons; one, okay, who wouldn't cry? It was tear-jerking to see a group of kids perform Journey, and it doesn't help I'm a big fan. But second, they were… it was a terrible rendition; I mean, they couldn't be blamed, but still. Emma came back midway through this performance, a bit more relaxed, but still nervous.

After them, however, Emma tensed up; I knew, at that point, that William McKinley was up next. I sat up straight in my seat, looking forward. However, that didn't make a whole lot of sense for me to do, because bursting into the hallway came a pretty brunette girl, belting Barbra Streisand like her life depended on it.

And I won't lie, I got goosebumps. This girl, with her slightly larger than average nose, had stolen my heart with a single line in a song. New Directions, as she sang on, entered the auditorium, and to me it seemed that they had already won. Easily William McKinley's glee club was the most professional out of all three I'd seen, although the way that the performance was set up was rather haphazard, as if they didn't know what they were doing until the last moment.

Their vocal rendition of "You Can't Always Get What You Want," though, was _stunning._

It was a bit later when Mom, Emma, and I found out who had won; the victor though, was fairly obvious. William McKinley won unanimously; the sight thereafter was three women jumping for joy, and Emma, who had been on the phone the entire time, tearfully shouted, "They won, Will! They won!"

"Kalliope, would you like to meet the kids?" Emma asked, and without even a look to me, my mother confirmed that.

"Oh, don't give me that look, sweetheart. This'll be good for you." I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Mom was so naïve – it seemed to go right over her head that _I can't talk to people_. That makes it a bit difficult to go around and meet people and whatnot.

A celebration of monumental proportions was taking place in New Directions' dressing room, and a smile found its way to my face despite how awkward I was feeling at the situation. Emma's smile was gentle but anxious, as though she had somewhere else she needed to go, but didn't want to. "You guys… were phenomenal. You took my breath away. And Mr. Schuester has never been more proud of you."

To be honest, they were quite the little group of misfits. One could tell just by looking at them that none of them were in the same social group. Having changed out of their show choir outfits, you could see that there were Goths, cheerleaders, football players, and men who were too stylishly dressed not to be gay. Nonetheless, their diversity had worked out okay for them, and I had to give them a small clap for that.

"Oh, kids, this is my friend Alecto, and her daughter Kalliope. They just wanted to congratulate you on your performance." I waved again, shyly, as Mom showered them with praises. Finally, the boy who I had a strong suspicion was gay approached me, and I almost found myself cowering before him. What? I'm pathetic, I know, I know; even the thought of talking to people other than my family frightens me – but he said the last thing I expected.

"You know, when you walked in here, I wasn't sure I liked that color headband with your outfit. I must say, though, it's grown on me." My nerves deflated, and I smiled and gave a slight flick of the hand, as in, _'oh, it's nothing.'_

Mom, nonchalantly interrupting her conversation with Emma, said, "Don't take it personally if she doesn't reply. You would if you could, wouldn't you, Kalliope?"

My gaze dropped to the floor, and I nodded, slightly ashamed. The boy, however, seemed unaffected. "Kalliope, hm? I'm Kurt." Kurt proceeded to name everyone else in the glee club, even giving a little sigh when he named Finn, the New Directions male lead. Time came for Mom and I to leave, but Kurt slipped me his number, and told me to drop him a text whenever I wanted to go do something.

In other words, Mom had better be happy, because I think I finally made my first real friend that isn't a cousin.

* * *

"_You just call out my name  
__And you know wherever I am  
__I'll come running  
__Oh yes I will  
__See you again…"_

"_You've Got a Friend" – James Taylor_


End file.
